


Closer

by deilen_gwyrdd



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Cheese, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-09 03:10:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/769279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deilen_gwyrdd/pseuds/deilen_gwyrdd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'It was the silence that wound him the most. The deadly silence as every human and alien around the transporter room stood in disbelief, in fear, in distress for the woman who had fallen to her death, and the man who had just lost his mother.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just a McChekov fic that I wrote a while ago (absolutely love McCoy/Chekov), based after Spock's mother's death, Chekov feels guilty, and McCoy is the one to help. 
> 
> I've also chucked in my 2nd favourite Star Trek Kirk/Sulu! :)
> 
> And no... I'm not one to write out Chekov's Russian accent like 'ze' and 'zat' and 'Doktor'... that's what the imagination's for! :P

It hadn’t meant to turn out this way. It had meant to have worked, just like it did not five minutes before. He had done the same routine, punch in the codes, locate their positions, lock on and bring them back safely. All of them. Except this time not all had beamed aboard the Enterprise safely.

Pavel Chekov had felt like his heart had stopped in his chest when he heard the drowning sound of rubble through the communicator, a slight gasp of a helpless, frightened woman, and then the loud beaming that brought the Vulcans on board the ship.

It was the silence that wound him the most. The deadly silence as every human and alien around the transporter room stood in disbelief, in fear, in distress for the woman who had fallen to her death, and the man who had just lost his mother. It was so silent that the young navigator could hear their breathing, uneven and broken.

His face fell as his hands dropped onto the sides of the control board, mouth agape as he tried to breathe in and out, his eyes unfocused on the flashing lights on the screen. Spock’s mother was dead, and it was his fault. He could have saved her, but he was too slow, too imprecise, and too stupid to even lock onto one person when he had just saved two.

He could feel himself fall forward, his back slouching slowly as his head started spinning with the thought of the fear in the woman’s eyes as she fell. Her eyes looking into those of her sons, the last time she would see him. 

Chekov’s breathing became irregular, his palms sweating in unease as he felt something prickling his skin, pinning him down into the chair like an invisible weight. The weight of everyone’s eyes on him, and him alone. 

He knew they were looking at him. Blaming him for what had happened to the mother of Spock, cursing him for being such a foolish child for not having the ability to beam up a single person. Their stares were like vicious bullets to the chest, they’d rather see him dead than have him aboard a ship where he couldn’t even save lives and do things properly.

Chekov knew his friend Sulu was watching him, he knew the helmsman could sense his disquiet and see that his body had begun to shake slightly. Kirk was watching him, his hand gently settling onto Chekov’s shoulder, supposedly trying to reassure him of his mistake, a quiet ‘it’s not your fault’ spoken through the simple gesture.

And he could feel the burn of a dark gaze of the deceased woman’s son. Spock. Chekov knew for a fact the Vulcan’s emotionless eyes were settled upon him, he could feel his stare boring into him the most. Like he was mentally screaming at him, pushing him, hitting him, blaming him for the death of his own mother.

Vulcans never showed emotion, they couldn’t. But Chekov knew, he just knew that Spock was hurting as he looked up at the man. His head slowly lifted and his eyes locked with those of the Vulcans, Spock was staring at him, staring at him with this impassive expression that held no sign of grief or anger or sadness for his mother. But then his eyes showed what his face could not.

Chekov looked back into those eyes and he saw the emotion. He saw the anger there growing into a blazing fire, the sadness reaping at the corner of his brown orbs, and the hatred, the undeniable layer of hate sitting in the middle of it all. That emotion was left here for him. The hate the man felt for Chekov struck him hard.

Chekov couldn’t take it. He couldn’t take the hatred that was aimed right at him, the deepening stares that held onto him as he felt himself shiver. His body began shaking on its own accord like he was sitting in the snow, his thoughts started swimming ferociously in his mind and a pool of tears were fighting to be released.

The Russian broke eye contact with the Vulcan without delay, and in an instant Chekov shot up off his chair in a hurried pace. He felt his body almost give up on him as his vision went blurry, the door looking so far away as he ran towards it and didn’t look back, he wouldn’t look back.

Chekov ran like the wind through the transporter room’s exit, his feet carrying him anywhere, as long as it was far away from the occupants of that room. He ignored the concerned calls from his best friend as he ran away, the loud voice of Kirk calling his name, the slightly stunned gasps of officers as he ran by them in a hurry, pushing past with his head down.

His feet carried him down the long and winding corridors of the ship, his breath catching in his chest as his tears began to fall freely. He didn’t know where he was going or what he was going to do, but all he knew was that he just wanted to fall, fall down onto the ground and cry until the guilt would seep out of him until it was gone.

The white walls were making him feel dizzy, the bright lights lining the ceiling flashed in his eyes like the intense glow of a thousand stars, and he tried to drown out all the noise around him, doors shutting, machines churning, people whispering, echoes of their curiosity and confusion following him down the halls.

Chekov didn’t know when it happened but he had suddenly flown down a dim part of the hallway through double doors, and then he was sitting on a floor in a darkened room, a carpeted floor. His back fell against a hard wall, as he brought his knees up against his chest, winding his arms around his slim legs he let his head fall down and rest on his knees and allowed a stream of tears to run down his pale cheeks.

All he could think about was the poor woman that he had let die on that planet that no longer existed, Spock who had seen her take her last breath, and the other Starfleet officers. What would they think of him once they found out what he’d done? What if Sulu suddenly saw the grief in Spocks eyes too and never wanted to speak to Chekov again? What if he was relieved of duty from the Starship Enterprise for making one stupid mistake?

He didn’t want those things to happen! Chekov knew he could do better, he really did, and he has the capability to save other people with his skills, his dedication. It was just one mistake, one lousy mistake that anyone could make, he didn’t mean to lose her, he didn’t mean to let it happen.

As Chekov sat alone in the dark crying, his eyes falling shut and his breathing slowly going steady, the thoughts scrambled around in his head like a film reel playing the events. He hugged himself tighter as he buried his face in his arms, wishing to be swallowed by the darkness surrounding him in the quiet room.

It wasn’t long before the Russian navigator tired himself out, his crying growing faint before he fell into a light doze on the floor. Although he was asleep Chekov’s thoughts haunted him in his slumber, a woman’s bright eyes staring at him, fear deepening the shades of blue.

Chekov didn’t know how long he’d been asleep, but it felt like days. His head hurt like a brick had been thrown at it, and his body ached all over. He could feel the tear stains dried up on his face, he’d cried so much that the sleeves of his jumper were still somewhat damp. 

He awoke in a daze, not knowing where he was or why he was there, just the feeling of emptiness at the pit of his stomach. Then Chekov almost jumped as he felt something resting gently on his shoulder, a hand, a comforting hand gripping him softly like he was too delicate to touch.

The ensign lifted his head from the warmth of his arms wrapped tightly around his legs, his eyes felt dry and tight as he opened them to see through the darkness ahead of him. The glow emitting from the small, round glass tops in the roof streamed down into the room giving off a speck of light, Chekov could see the outline of a silhouette kneeling beside him.

The person had its hand kept in place on Chekov’s shoulder, and then the young officer felt its fingers tap him lightly. “You alright kid?”

The man’s voice sounded deep and rigid in the emptiness of the place, his concern came through clearly in the question though Chekov couldn’t see the man’s expression. And he knew that voice, Chekov recognized the thick American accent that fell from his lips, the southern pronunciation rolling off his tongue.

“Chekov?” The man said his name softly, making the young Russian feel at ease in the shadows of his own thoughts. “Kid, you awake? I can’t see a damn thing in this place! Wait… I think I’ve got…”

Chekov recognized him then, that voice that he’d heard not long ago on the bridge, calling after a stumbling Kirk who’d barged into the sector babbling about Romulans and traps. A tall, handsome man wearing the Starfleet’s blue uniform shirt, a medical officer he’d understood as the Doctor had informed Captain Pike of Kirk’s influence from a vaccine. 

Pike had mentioned his name; he’d said it just the one time while Kirk tried his best to get through to the ship’s captain. But Chekov couldn’t remember it, it was there on the tip of his tongue but not quite visible in his mind. 

“Chekov,” He said his name again this time more clear and firm, and the navigator could hear him fidget on his knees beside him. “I’m going to put a small light on, just so we can see each other, ok?”

Chekov hesitated for a second; wanting to wallow in the darkness just a little longer, forget that he was a part of the ship and forget what he’d done. But a part of him was glad that the older man was there with him, someone who wasn’t there when he’d let Spock’s mother fall into the pit of blackness, who didn’t witness his ten seconds of complete failure.

So Chekov nodded, forgetting the fact that the man couldn’t see him in the darkness of the room, sitting close against the wall like he didn’t want to be found. Another shuffle from the man followed by a quiet curse and there was a speck of light coming from a diminutive torch, the man held it up in his hand and aimed it at the ceiling, giving off enough luminosity to see each other in the virtually pitch black space.

“That’s better.” He mumbled. “How are you feeling kid?”

Chekov could see the man’s features now, his dark hair combed to the side like that of a nineteen forties Englishman, his thin lips pursed with his eyebrows scrunched together like he was thinking intensely about something. Then his eyes, his dark orbs looking straight at Chekov just like the others who’d been gazing at him not long ago, eyes full of anger, sadness, and hate. 

Chekov looked at him, into his brown eyes, searching for that same emotion that was held in the eyes of the Vulcan. But he couldn’t find it there; he couldn’t find that flame of fury that hid deep inside, instead his eyes held something else. It was pure worry, the Doctor was watching him with concern in his eyes like he wanted to help him, wanted to show him that he cared.

“Chekov, talk to me.” The Doctor moved closer, shifting his legs from under him to sit against the wall beside the younger man. With a contented sigh he spoke to him. “I heard what happened in the transporter room.”

At those words Chekov’s form stiffened, he wound his arms tighter around himself as he suddenly felt a stab of guilt in his chest. The ensign’s head fell forward and he shut his eyes so tight it hurt, he could feel the tears that were at the brink of escaping. 

The Doctor glanced at him; the young navigator held himself so close that he looked like a small child hiding from the monsters in the dark, so fragile and afraid. Chekov was shaking again like a sudden draft had made its way into the room, cold fingers crawling across his skin.

“I heard you saved Kirk and Sulu’s lives Ensign.” The doctor said, noticing how Chekov’s hands gripped tighter onto his yellow sleeves as he said it. “You did good kid. Kirk told me how amazing you were on the controls.”

“Nyet.”

The Doctor blinked in surprise at the harshness of the boy’s tone, that one simple word sounding like it could mean a thousand things. Chekov shook his head and opened his eyes to stare into nothingness, his lips quivering as bitter tears rolled down his cheeks freely.

“No.” He repeated in English, his voice scratchy as his next words stumbled out. “I am no good… no good at it… I… I let her f-fall… s-she fell… she…”

“Chekov.” The doctor leaned forward; he lowered his voice into a slight murmur. “Is that why you ran? You ran because you think it’s because of you she didn’t make it?”

“I-I do not think,” Chekov stuttered, his stare breaking from the spot on the wall to look into the Doctor’s eyes. “I know.” He said seriously. “It was my fault... I-I could have saved her… b-but… I…”

“Wow now!” The older officer placed his hand gently onto the ensign’s back; the boy looked so distressed, his sad green eyes overflowing with tears as his fingers dug painfully into his arms, turning his knuckles white. “Don’t go blaming yourself for something that wasn’t your fault Ensign.”

Chekov’s lips parted ready to throw more ridiculous sentences at the Doctor. “No!” He interrupted, while his southern accent thickened in bafflement at Chekov’s argument. “It is not your fault Chekov, it’s nobody’s fault except for those who destroyed the planet, the bastards who care nothing of the lives of others.”

The doctor’s hand moved carefully to rest on Chekov’s shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze. “You shouldn’t blame yourself Chekov, there was nothing you or anyone else could have done. No one could have saved her; she fell too quickly before anyone could do anything.”

Chekov loosened his grip around his arms, his eyes drifting to the floor as the Doctor’s words sunk in. His thoughts turned to the moment when it all happened. He’d locked onto the other Vulcans, they were beaming up from the surface, and then one had started to fall. Chekov’s fingers had frantically skid over the screen, his voice growing with panic as he saw a symbol disappear. One had not beamed onto the Starship.

Could he have locked onto her? He didn’t know. Chekov didn’t know if it was possible or not, but he was positive he could have done something, anything to save a life. Maybe concentrate more, use a different tactic, or move a little faster. He should have done something.

“I… I made a mistake.” Chekov felt a single tear run slowly down his cheek, instantly he wiped it away with the back of his hand. “I should have reacted quicker, I-I should have... should have done something, I was so stupid!”

“No you weren’t,” The doctor inched forward a little, catching the ensign’s attention so that he would look him in the eye, to see how serious he was being. “Everyone in the world makes mistakes Chekov, even the Captain of the Enterprise, even me. Hell, I’ve made so many mistakes in my life I’ve lost count.”

At the hint of humour in the Doctor’s voice Chekov felt a small smile tug at the corner of his lips. Feeling like his mood was lightened by the other man’s words, Chekov rubbed at his eyes with his palms harshly, leaving them red and glistening from the lingering tears.

“Chekov, what you did back there saved lives.” He continued. “You saved more than one life, and you should be proud of that. Don’t blame yourself over something that clearly wasn’t your fault, because no one else blames you. In fact, I bet they all want to thank you.”

Chekov’s gaze lingered on the Doctors, his lips parting slightly as the words he wanted to speak came out in a mere whisper. “Spock,” he said. “He… he blames me… he looked at me when-“

“Hey,” The doctor’s expression softened at the genuinely worried voice Chekov created. “He most definitely does not blame you Ensign; in fact, it was Spock who sent me and some of the crew around the ship to find you, he was worried when you ran out of the transporter room, he said you looked rather stressed.”

At that Chekov’s eyes widened in surprise, his intensely green eyes catching the light of the torch. Spock was the one who wanted to find him, he sent people around the ship to find him. Did that mean that he wasn’t mad at him, if he was worried then that meant he couldn’t be? 

New thoughts and feelings were buzzing around like a cluster of bees inside his head, and Chekov didn’t know what to do, what he could say. All the young navigator could think of was what everyone else was really thinking, what did Spock really think of what happened?

“Kid, you spacing out on me again?” The doctor tapped him lightly on the shoulder, one eyebrow raised. “You ok?”

Chekov nodded slowly, his arms relaxing around his slender frame as he leaned back against the wall. “I thought that… Spock was angry at me.”

“No,” The older officer got back onto his knees, grunting like an old man as his bones clicked and clacked from sitting down for too long. “He’s not angry with you at all, he just wants to talk to you, and he’ll probably tell you exactly what I’ve told you.”

Chekov suddenly felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Although he still had that nagging feeling at the back of his head, telling him the Vulcan and the crew would never forgive him, he wanted to push it away because deep down the Doctors words were hitting him hard.

“Thank you doctor.” Chekov spoke softly, his gaze landing on the man beside him as he smiled sweetly.

“You’re welcome ensign,” he smiled back, withdrawing his hand before standing up unhurriedly, his legs starting to feel like they weren’t even there. “I think we should get you back to the bridge.”

Chekov looked up at the Doctor, who to his surprise had his hand held out towards him. The man’s eyebrow shot up into his fringe like before, making Chekov want to laugh somewhat at the habit. He suddenly felt relieved, and maybe a little happy being in the company of the doctor.

Without hesitation Chekov took hold of the older man’s hand, gripping it tightly he was lifted up off the hard floor. His legs felt as stiff as a board, his back aching from bending and sitting for too long, not to mention the headache that had grudgingly formed. 

“You alright there kid?” The doctor released his hand from the tight grip he had on the ensigns, his Doctor Mode switching on without delay as he saw Chekov’s hand fly to his head.

“Y-Yes sir,” Chekov answered dazedly, his hand lowering to his side as he smiled stiffly up at the doctor. “I am fine, just a headache.”

The Doctor wasn’t having it; he frowned as he crossed his arms over his chest, looking like a teacher about to tell his student off which kind of made Chekov feel like he shouldn’t get on the man’s bad side. Chekov bit his lip fretfully, waiting for the Doctor’s ruling.

“I’m taking you to sickbay.” Was what he said.

That was the last place Chekov wanted to be at the minute. So many people sauntered and ran around in the medical section of the ship that he didn’t want to be there, in the midst of it all, around other people. He just wanted to get back to the bridge, and carry on with his work.

“But Doctor,” Chekov implored. “It is just a headache! I will be fine, honestly!”

“No.” The medical officer said simply, unfolding his arms and stepping forward. “I’ll take you there first, give you a painkiller and test you for any other stress related signs.” 

“Stress?” Chekov sulked at the thought of a hypospray being jabbed into his neck; he’d had enough of those injections back at the academy to put him off for a lifetime. “I-I have no stress Sir, I will be ok once I-“

“Enough Ensign,” The doctor cut in, putting his hand between Chekov’s shoulder blades and gently pushing him towards the sliding doors whilst he placed his torch back into his side bag. “I’m going to check on you first, then you can go have a word with Spock, and then you can go back to your duties. Understand?”

Chekov nodded in acceptance, although he desperately wanted to go straight to Spock to ease his mind and talk with the Vulcan to get his thoughts off his chest. But judging by the Doctor’s serious displeasure and the challenging glint in his eyes he wouldn’t get away that easily.

The navigator was led through the darkened room and passed the soundless automatic doors where they both stepped into the faintly lit hallway, there were no souls in sight except for a majority of security officers entering and leaving through doors on the side. It was like stepping into a different world, away from the dark and silent where Chekov could be invisible. 

The simple touch of the Doctor’s hand on his back made Chekov feel warm and content, to know that someone was there with him, caring for him and telling him that all was going to be just like it was. That nobody was blaming him for anything. What happened hours ago wasn’t his fault.

Chekov couldn’t help but think he had been a little impractical back there, even though it killed him to see the look on those people’s faces. He should have kept himself together, looked away and wait until someone else had said something, do something, or even breathe a sigh.

But that was all over with now. And no one was blaming him for what happened on the Vulcan planet, and for that he was grateful. He was reminded of the lives that he had been able to save, and the Doctor had told him it was something to be proud of. And that, he was.

Chekov felt a smile grace his features as he was led down the corridor by the Doctor, coming into the brightly lit hallways of the ship. The man’s hand was still resting gently between his shoulder blades, silently guiding him towards the medical offices.

Chekov felt a sort of comfort at the kind touch, which made him think about the man’s habitual reaction at taking care of his patients. And as Chekov took a sly glance to his left, just to study the Doctor’s dark eyes, furrowed eyebrows and serious expression, the ensign had realized one thing.

“Doctor?” he said, as they turned a corner.

The tall man looked at him questioningly. “Yes ensign?”

“I…” Chekov stammered, feeling a slight blush creep its way up his cheeks. “What… is your name...? Sir?”

The doctor raised an eyebrow, something he must do regularly Chekov thought, and as they came to a halt in front of a sliding door the doctor dialled in the frequency.

“It’s McCoy.” He said, as the doors slid open to reveal a rather busy sickbay. 

Chekov caught his eye and smiled, the name suiting the southern American perfectly. “Doctor McCoy.” He said, testing the name on his lips. “It’s nice to meet you, Sir.”

And with that said, Chekov stepped through the entrance into the busy medical room, where nurses and senior doctors went about doing their job to patients laying in beds or getting frequent checkups. He made sure to keep his head down, not wanting to talk to anyone just yet.

Doctor McCoy was left standing in the doorway, eyes tracing every step the young navigator made as he walked calmly through the room. He suddenly had a bizarre interest in the Russian ensign, the boy’s sweet smile and soft tone of voice as he said his name making him stop whatever it was he was doing.

But before McCoy could think any longer Chekov had turned around with his eyes wide in confusion as the doctor still stood by the threshold, the young man somehow looked like a lost puppy in the middle of a bustling street. Gathering himself up and muttering who knows what and when, McCoy strolled into the room with his stern work face in place.

Chekov had his eyes on McCoy as he sauntered past without a word, head nodding in the direction of a free bed at the end of the room, equipment stacked and spread across the metal shelving. Following McCoy over to the bed, Chekov couldn’t help but feel so much better than he did not long ago.  
As McCoy prepared a vaccine full of painkiller fluids to inject into the ensign, he dropped, tipped and almost stabbed himself with the jab, making him curse and grumble about being a doctor and the lack of decent medical equipment. All the while Chekov watched and he laughed quietly to himself at the doctor, a wide smile brightening his spirit.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chekov gets back to work, and McCoy checks up on him.

Chekov didn’t think the day could get any more dramatic and chaotic than it already had. To say the least, he didn’t think it would turn out to be the way it did. It wasn’t like a normal day aboard a federation vessel, not like any day was actually normal for the crew, but this one was particularly abnormal.

Ever since that incident hours earlier Chekov had slowly relaxed, the comforting words of his friends easing him, and the distraction of his work taking his mind off of things he shouldn’t be thinking about any longer. Because that incident was over, and now he could just move on and forget about it. Well, almost forget.

Doctor McCoy had given him a full body scan back at the sickbay, insisting rather anxiously that he be checked for any sign of the ensign wanting to collapse and not get back up again, Chekov didn’t want to stay but McCoy had been so stubborn and grumpy that the ensign was afraid to say no. It had taken more than five minutes which the doctor had promised, him and his hyposprays jabbing at Chekov’s neck like a pack of bees.

But Chekov didn’t mind once the doctor had finished, because McCoy had looked so reassured once he’d made sure the navigator was fit for duty and healthy as the day he was born, it made Chekov feel pleased that someone cared so much for him. McCoy was a doctor, and he evidently had a duty to care for his patients, but to Chekov it was special because nobody had ever been so concerned and helpful to him before, Chekov had never known what it was like to be cared for.

Sure, his friends on board the enterprise had shown kindness to him before, but he was never that close to them, they would never be so troubled about him the way the doctor was. If one of them saw him break down and tire himself out to the brink of exhaustion, they’d help of course, but would hand him over to the nearest medical officer.

Sulu had once found him crying in the boy’s bathroom back at the academy, huddled in the corner like a small child, so unlike other students who were mostly over the age of twenty. Chekov was crying over a boy who’d called him a ‘weird nerd’, picked on him for being different, for being exceedingly smart at the tender age of sixteen.

Sulu had been there, told him everything would be alright. Chekov liked to be left alone when he was down in the dumps, and so Sulu knew not to argue with him and leave him be. Sulu knew Chekov would be ok after a little while, all he needed was some kind words to make him realise that it was the other man who should be crying, because he didn’t have the brains that Chekov did. 

His parents had beyond doubt never acted the way Doctor McCoy did towards him. Not once in Chekov’s life had his mother held him tight and soothed him into sleep after nightmares, his father never helping him up off the ground after falling off his bike, scratches bleeding on his knees where he’d have to cover with a plaster by himself minutes later.

Chekov’s uncle who lived next door and practically lived in their house hadn’t even flinched when he’d fainted in front of him, his ten year old body growing weak and tired from overworking around the house or out in the field. That night, in their small cottage just outside snowy Izvensk, Chekov had looked after himself while his uncle and parents laughed at a popular Russian show on the television downstairs.

So it was all new to Chekov. The worried glances, the gentle touches, the never-ending questions of ‘how are you feeling now?’ or ‘are you ok to leave sickbay?’ And it felt good. It felt good to be taken care of by the doctor, Chekov was in fact quite happy that the doctor had ordered him to stay.

It had been easier to talk to Spock once McCoy had given him words of encouragement, walking with him to the bridge and Chekov could have sworn the doctor had glared at Spock in warning before returning to the sickbay. The Vulcan obviously knew what said glare meant, because he nodded back before walking Chekov to the hallway.

Chekov apologised without thinking first, his words running passed his lips like he couldn’t control his own self. He’d felt that pang of worry, fear and sadness again, just for a second, before Spock had put a hand on his shoulder and looked him in the eyes. This time though, Chekov couldn’t see anger or hurt in the Vulcan’s eyes, but he could see the corner of his lips slightly turned up into a small smile. Chekov knew then that it wasn’t his fault.

But from then on Chekov thought that he was the least of Spock’s worries. Kirk was someone the Vulcan obviously had no time for, wanting nothing of his advice or opinions, his voice calm and steady as he gave his orders and ignored Kirk’s judgment.

Once the crew on the bridge started putting pieces together of the Romulans plans, sharing ideas and working things out, Kirk and Spock immediately clashed like fire and water. Every piece of information one shared the other one slatted, having no desire to agree on anything the other man said or felt. It was like listening to two siblings bickering over who gets to look after the dog.

Nobody expected Kirk to get thrown off the ship, let alone thrown onto a freezing cold planet in the middle of the galaxy. Chekov could see the relief in Spock as Kirk was whisked away, out cold in the clutches of the security guards who had to drag his limp body to the shuttle bay.

All sorts of gossip had run around the ship from then on, people making silly stories up about Kirk wanting to take command of the ship, threatening the Captain and demanding to be taken to the Romulans to fight one on one like a super ninja. Chekov had simply chuckled; glad to hear the sound of his own laughter.

Chekov and Sulu had laid in the course to Earth by the time Kirk had probably landed on the ice covered planet, maybe waking up to find that he’d been dumped in the middle of nowhere, only thing keeping him company is the voice of the small transporter’s computer. It made Chekov cringe, hoping he’d never get on the bad side of a Starfleet Captain.

Minutes later they were speeding through space like a comet, darting past an everlasting trail of shimmering stars, a gigantic brightly lit ship whizzing through a blanket of beautiful darkness. Chekov loved to be sitting on the bridge of the ship, in his chair just in front of the large glass window, everything and anything that existed in space there for him to see.

His hands sped over the screen he was situated at, eyes scanning the status of the ship’s warp and positions as it travelled through the galaxy. It came naturally to him, to pick out an error or notice a slight malfunction in the navigational system. But thankfully this time there were no faults as they shot like a bullet in space, the atmosphere calm yet busy since the absence of Jim Kirk.

Chekov looked over to Sulu who seemed to be starring into the blackness ahead, eyes unblinking like he was in deep thought. The navigator smiled a little at his friend, who seemed to be doing that a lot lately, wondering off into his own world every now and again as soon as there was no work to be done on the bridge.

His gaze wondered around the rest of the bridge, Spock sitting in the Captain’s chair like a king on a throne, hands placed at his sides with his eyebrows knotted. Uhura watched the Vulcan worriedly from her seat, fingers gentle tapping her knees, clearly thinking of someway that she could help Spock in any way possible.

Security was standing still by the doors, an engineer working on a panel below the communications system and some lieutenants scurrying about the place like it was on fire. Chekov swivelled around in his chair, facing toward the glass window once again, watching the shining stars whizz past them.

As they overtook a planet the size of Mars Chekov’s eye caught a hold of someone in the reflection of the glass, a tall figure with dark hair wearing the blue Enterprise uniform. Chekov leaned forward in his chair and leaned his arms across the pad, narrowing his eyes just a little to see if he could make out the blurry vision of the man.

It was definitely McCoy. His tall form standing straight as he approached Spock, eyebrows furrowed together in an almost scowl that could have people running the other way. Chekov smiled to himself as he watched McCoy discussing something serious with the Captain by the look on his face, visibly irritated by the Vulcan’s company.

Chekov wondered what they were talking about, possibly the fact that Spock had thrown the doctor’s friend off the ship without a second thought, or the plan that the Vulcan had devised which McCoy wasn’t too happy about. The ensign didn’t have any say in the matter of the plan, but he did agree with Kirk, but of course he’d never tell the Captain that.

It wasn’t until a couple of minutes later that Chekov noticed Spock had gone, leaving McCoy standing alone beside the Captain’s chair, thinking to himself about the conversation he’d just had with the Vulcan. His arms were crossed over his chest as he stood there, his glowering eyes gazing off into nothingness.

Chekov got even more curious as to what they had been discussing as he watched the doctor, he’d turned around slightly in his chair to look at him clearer, noticing how he bit his bottom lip every now and then. The ensign also noticed McCoy’s fingers, digging into his arms like he was stopping himself from doing something, from doing something that would be a really bad idea.

Chekov frowned, suddenly feeling quite sorry for the older man, starting to worry about what might be bothering him so much that he’d be so angry and out of sorts. The doctor didn’t seem like the type to be fuming at anyone or anything, maybe a little frustrated and moody, but never livid like he would lash out and yell at the top of his voice.

And the doctor’s expression changed in an instant as he caught sight of Chekov looking his way, his tightly knit eyebrows relaxing slightly and lips more or less turning up into a small smile. The tenseness in his shoulders seemed to have disappeared in seconds, his serious thoughts driven away by the warm smile Chekov sent back to him in greeting.

The ensign was expecting the doctor to just nod like he always did to people he saw in the corridor, or maybe send a wave his way, but McCoy let his arms fall to his sides and leisurely walked towards the navigator. McCoy walked around to Chekov’s right, standing next to the side of the long panel.

Chekov twisted in his chair, looking up at McCoy who was staring off into the colourful abyss behind the glass. Yet again he seemed to be thinking deeply about something, but this time it was something special, because his eyes seemed to sparkle as he gazed at the stars and outstanding planets they passed.

Chekov took this time being so close to the doctor to take a closer glimpse at him. The navigator’s eyes travelled along the doctor’s body, taking in the slight outline of muscles in his arms, up to his toned chest and slowly drifting along his tan coloured neck. 

McCoy’s firm jaw line curved perfectly, up into his thick dark hair that was combed to the side, every strand sitting flawlessly in place. His brows frowned intensely which seemed to be a habit of his every time he was in vast thought or in anger, his light greenly brown eyes gazing off into the scene ahead as he pursed his lips firmly.

Chekov was somehow entranced by the older man, wanting to take his eyes away but finding that he couldn’t. He’d only met the doctor a short while ago, and for some unknown reason to him he wanted to know everything about him. Chekov felt engrossed in the man who had helped him, the man that had cared for him, and it was kind of making him feel strange at the feelings he was suddenly having.

McCoy was a handsome man, a very attractive man that had Chekov blushing slightly at his own thoughts. The navigator blinked slowly as he tore his gaze away from the doctor, finding a spot on the con to stare at like a doll with its wide glassy eyes. 

“How are you doing Ensign?”

The young Russian was tugged out of his daydream at the unpredicted sound of Doctor McCoy’s voice. He didn’t’ think the doctor would even speak, thinking he was only there to think and stare off into space, something that Chekov normally did himself when there was no work to be done on the bridge.

“Er…” Chekov averted his eyes from the panel to look up at the older man, who was now looking back at him, frown forgotten. “I’m… I’m very good doctor. Thank you.”

McCoy nodded once, turning his head to look out again. “If there’s anything bothering you kid, don’t forget, I’m here to help and you can tell me anything.”

Chekov felt a smile sneakily spread across his face, that feeling of being taken care of coming back to him. The doctor said those words with such sincerity that it was hard to not believe the man, and it made Chekov’s insides all warm like McCoy was wrapping him in a protective blanket.

“Ensign?” 

Chekov felt his face heat up as McCoy stared at him with his infamous quirk of the eyebrow, his expression confused. Chekov realised immediately that he had been staring at the doctor the whole time he was thinking to himself, eyes unblinking, he felt like diving into a hole and burying himself in embarrassment.

“Yes… doctor?” Chekov stuttered out, averting his eyes to the colourful patterns passing them in space. 

“Are you sure nothing’s bothering you?” McCoy asked seriously, turning slightly to face the young navigator. “Is it the… incident that happened.” The doctor started to sound uncertain of his own words suddenly, like he was afraid to ask. “Are you still thinking about it ensign? Because if you are, then you need to stop.”

Chekov’s gaze lowered to his lap slowly, staring down at his hands where he was fiddling with the hem of his yellow shirt. He’d been desperately trying to forget about the whole thing since getting hurled into sickbay, step by step he’d slowly shoved the thoughts of earlier on to the back of his head. 

But if he said he’d forgotten about it entirely, he’d only be lying to himself and to the Doctor. The truth was, those distressing thoughts always found a hole in the barrier and slipped their way back into Chekov’s mind, images of the incident flickering on and off like a defecting film reel. 

All he needed was to just switch it off. Find something to distract himself some more, that’s all Chekov needed was to move on and forget it ever happened. McCoy had helped him before when his stressing thoughts were as clear as day, when he’d felt like the walls were closing in on him, and the doctor had said just a few words which meant a whole lot of things to Chekov. 

The navigator stopped the twiddling with his fingers, eyes staring at one spot on his dark trousers. Maybe if he said his feelings out loud, to the doctor, he would feel better. Maybe if he just said what he was thinking then McCoy would understand, help him move on even further.

“Actually doctor,” Chekov began, looking up restlessly at the other man. “I have been thinking about… you know.” The doctor’s eyebrows creased together. “I… I cannot help it, it just makes me think… what if Mr. Spock’s mother was here right now, safe and well.”

All McCoy could do was sigh, a hand lifting to rub at the bridge of his nose roughly. He knew the navigator would still have the accident in his mind, no matter how hard he tried to convince Chekov that nothing could have been done to stop it, he knew that some things just can’t be forgotten.

“Listen kid,” McCoy began, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down at the younger man with an unwavering appearance. “I’m going to tell you this once, and once only.”

Chekov’s eyes widened a little at the firm look McCoy had on his face, his voice sounding serious and full of determination to get his thoughts across. The doctor took a few small steps towards Chekov, lowering his voice so that nobody around them could overhear what he was saying, or else rumours would fly within seconds.

“Forget everything that happened earlier, forget everything you saw and done.” He said. “So many people are proud of what you did, Spock is so grateful for saving those Vulcans. Countless lives were lost on that planet which nobody could have saved, but you saved many. You need to remember that kid, nothing else.”

Chekov looked at McCoy with soft green eyes, a small smile curling the edge of his lips which was hardly noticeable. He was right, of course the doctor was right, and he knew how to say the right words. Chekov couldn’t help the thoughts that drifted in and out of his mind every now and then, but then he could at least try and forget them.

Forget how one human life had been lost to the destruction of the planet Vulcan, and millions more that could not even escape, but there were Vulcans walking around the Enterprise that had been saved by Chekov at the last minute. That is what he had to remember.

The doctor looked at him like he had grown two heads, his hazel eyes locking onto Chekovs’ just waiting for the navigator to say something, because McCoy had obviously made his statement. Chekov felt his smile broaden at the sight of McCoy with his arms crossed, one eyebrow raised into his hairline and expression firm like a teacher waiting for his student to give him a good explanation.

Chekov felt himself swell up with respect for the other man, and a new found sensation that he just couldn’t put his foot on every time he saw him. “Thank you.” Was all he could say, for no other words could be used for what he’d done for Chekov, a stranger the doctor had only met a few hours ago.

Then McCoy unfroze, his expression relaxed and he looked away from Chekov like he’d been stung. “There’s no need to thank me kid, I didn’t do anything.” He said.

“There is.” Chekov said quietly, afraid someone might hear him. “Noone has ever said such nice words to me before, words that mean something. All I get is hugs and ‘don’t worries’’ but you made me feel so much better, talking with you helped. Thank you, doctor.”

McCoy looked at him then, properly looked at him, like he was searching Chekov for something like he didn’t believe a word he’d said to him. It made Chekov want to jump up and hug the man just to show how grateful he was for his kind words.

Chekov could feel his cheeks turn a shade of pink at his own thoughts, imagining himself diving for a hug with the doctor and McCoy actually hugging him back. Chekov decided he must be getting some sort of fever along with a dosage of delusion.

McCoy answered with a slight nod of the head, his eyes moving elsewhere as he scratched the back of his neck. If Chekov was seeing things properly through his dazed eyes he could have sworn McCoy was blushing just a tad, avoiding eye contact like he was trying to avoid saying anything.

“I uh,” McCoy began, crossing his arms over his chest once again. “I’d better get back to sickbay.”

Chekov nodded in understanding, thinking of all the work the doctor had to do back in the medical bay, always on foot and never stopping. 

“I’ll see you around Ensign.” McCoy said.

“Yes sir,” Chekov sent him a warm smile. “Thank you again sir.”

McCoy nodded again instead of saying anything back to the navigator, but just as he was about to walk away Chekov could have sworn he saw a smile pulling at the edge of the doctor’s lips. That little thought made Chekov smile to himself as McCoy left the bridge, making his way through the double doors and back to his workplace.

The young Russian’s cheerful mood didn’t go unnoticed as he tapped away on his con with light fingers; a good-natured smile gracing his features like the sun had suddenly shone down on him. Chekov felt eyes on him, a pair of eyes just wanting to grab his attention by their concentrated gaze.

“What?” Chekov said without looking over at Sulu, he could tell the other man was looking right at him for he hadn’t budged since Chekov had gone back to work on the control panel.

“You looked like a lost puppy!” Sulu chuckled.

At that Chekov looked at his best friend in disbelief. “What are you talking about?”

“You and McCoy,” Sulu snickered as he spoke, a sly grin plastering his face. “You’ve never acted so shy in front of another man before, and you’re quite a shy person around strangers!”

Chekov scowled and turned back to his post, prodding random buttons. “I am not shy around other men! And he is not a stranger!”

“Mhmm.” Sulu hummed, you could practically hear the teasing in his tone. “Looks like somebody’s got a thing for doctors.”

Chekov didn’t look back at the helmsmen, no, he carried on with his job and ignored him like he wasn’t even there. A thing for doctors? Chekov almost snorted out loud at the thought, he’s never had a thing for doctors nor will he ever.

Doctor McCoy was a friend to him now, someone he could turn to when he needed to talk, when he needed help with the things that no one but him could understand. Sulu was just being his plain old self, a tease! He wasn’t there when McCoy had found him sobbing on the floor of an abandoned room, and had comforted him, talked to him, made him feel at ease.

Sulu didn’t realise what the doctor had done for him in those last few hours, so he wouldn’t get why Chekov looked at McCoy with such appreciation, why he wanted to just talk with the doctor all the time about anything and everything because he knew that McCoy would understand.

Although, Chekov had to admit one thing, there was something inside him that wanted to see the doctor for other things beside talking and showing his gratitude. Chekov wanted to just see him, get to know him, be around him and become as close to him as he was with Kirk.

Chekov didn’t know why he wanted those things, he didn’t know why McCoy had suddenly become a big part of his thoughts, and frankly, it kind of scared him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirk and Spock get ready to take on Nero, Sulu worries, McCoy apologises.

Doctor Leonard McCoy was getting one hell of a headache. All the drama and frivolities on board the U.S.S Enterprise were driving him up the wall, he was getting sick and tired of watching Kirk and Spock bicker like a bunch of school children, and Kirk just being his outspoken self and getting himself into trouble.

Kirk had to go and get himself beaten up, as usual, and to make things even more completely barmy he’d gotten himself beaten up to become the new Captain of the god damn ship. McCoy knew that he’d be getting a lot of cocky smirks and ‘I told you so’’ from Kirk in the next month, or probably in the next year or two.

So McCoy didn’t have a lot of things to smile about, especially when the Enterprise was plummeting through space to reach Saturn, where they’d park the big piece of metal next to Titan where Kirk and Spock would go on board a Romulan ship and risk their necks. Yes, McCoy really loved space.

Not to mention the fact that he’d asked Chekov, who’d suggested the genius idea about placing the Enterprise above Titan, a stupid question that probably sounded a whole lot more mean than it should have. 

Wait a minute kid, how old are You?

Did he seriously ask that? Out of all the things he could have said to Chekov after astoundingly coming up with a plan to hide the ship from the Romulans which would practically save everyone’s asses, and beam Kirk and Spock safely on board the black vessel he went and blurted out a question like that.

He must have sounded like a grumpy old man, not having any faith in such a young, teenage navigator that should be out drinking Vodka and partying it up till all hours in the morning. It made him feel guilty, like he’d disrespected the Russian, like he’d looked down on him.

McCoy didn’t want to appear like a snappy, hostile man like he usually appeared to be in front of strangers, and he definitely didn’t want to make Chekov think of him in that way. Ever since he’d met the young navigator he’d found him to be an interesting character, so young and keen to learn yet so mature with already enough knowledge to outshine even the Captain of the Enterprise.

He felt the sudden urge to take care of Chekov when the boy had broken down into tears over something that clearly wasn’t his fault, for those few minutes spent with a stranger he’d just met McCoy had wanted nothing more than to put an arm around the young man and protect him from the dangerous, massive world around him.

The doctor had to admit one thing, he’d never felt like such a soppy old git. Sure, he used to be all lovey dovey with his ex-wife once in a blue moon when he felt like it, he’d happily cuddle his daughter when she’d cut her knee or felt tired, but McCoy had never actually wanted to show his soft side to anyone. Every single person at Starfleet had never once seen him smile.

Ever since his divorce, the last day he ever got to see his daughter, the house he’d lived in for years being taken from under his feet and cash disappearing from his bank, McCoy hadn’t even thought of smiling. Damn his stubborn, hateful wife and damn the world he lived in.

And now he’d gone and said something foolish, as usual, to someone who was in his line of fire at the time, and that someone happened to be a young Russian who had told him he’d been so kind to him. Heck, Chekov had thanked him so sincerely for only talking to him and making him feel better about the hectic situation.

Chekov may not have shown any sign that he’d been offended in the first place, or was taken aback by the doctor’s words, but McCoy had that damn voice inside his head telling him that he’d been a complete prat and didn’t think before he spoke. So McCoy was going to do something about it. 

McCoy was going to march back up to the bridge, make sure Chekov was free to talk since he and Sulu were a little bit busy trying to hover the ship above one of Saturn’s moons, and apologise for being such an ass. It’s the least he could do for the kid.

So there he was, standing outside the double doors leading to the busiest room on the federation ship. All that time spent thinking things over in his head, about what he’d said, what he should do, how he should apologise, and as soon as McCoy had got there he was stuck. He didn’t know how to approach the younger man, hell, he didn’t even know what he was going to say. And that was not normal for Leonard McCoy.

McCoy was used to handling things his own way, knowing what to do and what to say at the right place and right time. Well, it was in his job description. He had no idea why he was just standing by the door like a statue, eyes glued to the ensign in his seat and the sound of clockwork ticking away in his head as his thoughts got jumbled up in there.

He could see through the gigantic glass window at the front of the bridge that the ship was moving smoothly through a haze of orange fog, the shape of Saturn ten times bigger than the Enterprise to their left, embraced in a ring of shining rocks and dust. For a second McCoy’s mind was elsewhere, trapped in the beauty of space.

“Transporter room, we are in position above Titan.”

McCoy snapped out of his gaze as helmsman Sulu’s voice came into earshot, he watched as Sulu leaned a little to the left, communicating with the transporter room a serious expression plastered on his face. Chekov was no different, his hands had stilled on top of his con, eyes staring out into space as he listened to Mr. Scott on the other end.

“Really?” Mr Scott sounded surprised through the speaker, obviously impressed by the quick workings of the helmsman. “Fine job Mr. Sulu, well done!”

McCoy couldn’t help but be interested in the conversations coming through the communicators, he was relieved that the ship would be safe in its position for starters, but he was anxious as hell as to what would come next. And he didn’t expect to hear his friend’s voice come through seconds after Mr. Scott.

“Whatever happens Mr. Sulu, if you think you have the tactical advantage you fire on that ship even if we’re still on board, that’s an order.” Kirk’s tone was clear and calm like he was having a picnic in the park on a sunny day; McCoy couldn’t help but smirk a little at that.

But deep down he was afraid. Afraid for his friend that was about to go on board a dangerous Romulan ship and risk his own life, for the passengers on board the Enterprise that could possibly be in trouble if something went wrong, and for Chekov, he was worried for the young navigator who was experiencing things no seventeen year old should experience.

If the ship were to get into crucial threat then Chekov would be the one that McCoy would think about, so young and innocent to go through such ordeals, to see and hear things that not even McCoy was used to or could understand. For this, for being so brave and strong to want to be aboard a Starfleet ship and fight for peace, McCoy respected the kid more than he’d respected anyone in his life. 

His eyes drifted to the boy who was watching Sulu as Kirk spoke to him, McCoy couldn’t see his expression but he knew from the silence that Chekov was feeling the worry that was etched across Sulu’s face. As soon as the words left Kirk’s mouth and reached the helmsman, McCoy could have sworn he saw Sulu’s shoulders tense for just a second.

Sulu hesitated, not for long but just enough to show his loathe for the Captain’s words, the look of being troubled in his eyes. His hand practically stabbed at the button on his con as he said, “Yes, Sir.”

“Otherwise we’ll contact the Enterprise when we’re ready to be beamed back.” Kirk finished, his voice trailing off.

Sulu stared at his con, fingers hovering above the screen as though deciding whether to push the contact button or not. Within seconds the pilot jabbed the button and said to Kirk, “Good luck.” His voice sounded lifeless, like it didn’t even belong to him. 

McCoy took a few small steps towards Chekov, listening out for his friend through the con, waiting for him to say something back even if it were one word. He could tell from the look on Sulu’s face that he too wanted to hear Kirk’s voice; his fingers shook as they rested on top of the screen.

But Kirk’s voice never came through again. There were a few seconds where the sounds of people talking in the transporter room could be heard, and the humming of the engines and machines. McCoy knew that Kirk was still standing by the communicators, wanting to say something, but then the con made a silent bleep and Sulu and Kirk were disconnected.

As soon as Kirk disappeared the helmsman was silent. His eyes were unblinking as they stared at one spot on the con; his fingers were still shaking a little as they dug into its edge. Sulu’s expression had changed within minutes from serious to fear, the circumstances were affecting him more than McCoy could have imagined.

Chekov was looking at his friend now, his eyes hurt. He knew something by the way he gazed at Sulu, like he knew the other man’s secret that nobody else knew, and was anxious and sad for him as the helmsman sat back in his seat without another word. 

McCoy decided that now was the time to take Chekov away for a talk, to leave Sulu alone for a few minutes to think things over in his head, whatever he had reeling through his mind was visibly written across his face. Chekov wanted to help, he knew what was wrong with his close friend, but the navigator also knew that Sulu just wanted some time of silence alone.

McCoy walked quietly over to the teenager who was by now like a ghost sitting in his seat, waiting for any news on Kirk and Spock aboard the Romulan vessel. The doctor stood behind him not making a sound, and gently he placed a hand on Chekov’s shoulder.

Chekov gasped inaudibly in surprise at the sudden contact, rotating in his chair he looked up at McCoy with wide green eyes. “Doctor?”

“Hey kid.” McCoy tried to smile but found it hard to, Chekov’s expression showed nothing but dread and worry and it hurt McCoy a little to know just how much his friend’s sadness was affecting him.

“What are you doing here?” Chekov asked McCoy, his tone quiet like he was sitting in a library.

“I uh…” McCoy mumbled as he looked at the young Russian, he’d gone from being the bright and excited Ensign from earlier to this scared yet serious navigator. “I was wondering if I could have a word with you for a minute, in private.”

Chekov stared at McCoy like he’d just grown two heads out of nowhere, slowly his expression changed and it could match that of a lost puppy. 

“Well,” McCoy wanted so badly to growl because his patience had its limits, but seeing Chekov’s eyebrows knit together and lips more or less turn down into a pout in confusion made him hold his temper in. “Er.. Let’s go into the hall, ok?”

Chekov was noticeably curious and probably a lot more confused as to what the hell McCoy would want to talk to him about at such a time, the navigator got up from his chair and nodded in response. McCoy’s mouth opened, and then closed just as quickly, deciding just to shut up and get out into the hallway. 

Chekov was about to follow the older man, but as he took one step forward he froze, turning to take a look at his best friend. Sulu was looking back at him, like he knew the ensign would hesitate to leave the con, and Chekov felt slightly relieved that a small smile was fixed at the corner of the helmsman’s lips.

“Go on.” Sulu said softly, head inclining to where the doctor had just strolled out. “I’ll be fine; don’t be such a worry wart.” 

Chekov smiled at his friend’s words, that tiny hint of humour slipping through between them. “I won’t be long.” Chekov told him and took off in a slow jog to the hall.

Once Chekov had gone through the sliding door leading to the intensely lit corridor, he stopped dead in front of the doctor who was standing just outside it, arms crossed and brows furrowed. He was staring a hole into the wall as if in deep thought, looking like he was about ready to kick the thing down if his immense stare didn’t work.

Chekov slowly took a step forward, quiet like a mouse, then another and another until he was standing right behind the man. The navigator wanted so badly to frighten the doctor out of his wits, but decided McCoy wasn’t the best man to play a joke on, he didn’t exactly want to get on his bad side.

So Chekov tossed his genius plan out the window, and reaching his hand out he tapped on McCoy’s shoulder gently. “Doctor?”

McCoy gasped in surprise as he felt a hand against his shoulder, and a voice so close he didn’t know how the hell he didn’t realise someone was behind him sooner, he blamed old age. He spun around on his feet not so gracefully, and came face to face with the Russian whiz kid.

Chekov looked up at McCoy with a small smile, hands clasped behind his back. “You wanted to talk to me Sir?”

“Oh, uh, yeah.” McCoy mumbled, avoiding eye contact with the ensign. “Er… I just wanted… I guess I just wanted to apologise.”

Chekov’s eyebrows joined together in confusion, his head tilting somewhat to the side as he stared at the doctor like he’d just asked the most difficult physics question in history. McCoy didn’t know why but he had the sudden urge to smile, the navigator’s appearance was so charming it was hard not to at that moment. But the doctor decided it would look rather out of place if he did smile, it just wasn’t his thing.

“Erm,” McCoy coughed unsteadily. The doctor thought he probably didn’t look very proficient standing there with his arms crossed, eyes wondering about the place and feet shifting from side to side every now and then. “Yeah, I uh, wanted to apologise for what I said earlier, you know… asking your age.”

McCoy cringed at his own words as soon as they’d left his mouth, they weren’t exactly the best choice of words, and it didn’t exactly explain much to the ensign standing before him. But according to the grin that was spreading across Chekov’s face, he found it quite amusing.

“You are apologising for asking me how old I am, Sir?” Chekov smiled sweetly, almost letting out a slight chuckle at the way McCoy suddenly blushed at the question.

“Well, I…” McCoy huffed, feeling his cheeks heat up uncharacteristically. “I shouldn’t have… been so… I don’t know… I guess it was a little rude and uncalled for, the way I said it. It sounded like I didn’t have faith in you… because of your age.”

Chekov’s smile diminished and McCoy cursed mentally. “I mean, I didn’t mean it like that… I have no doubt in you whatsoever; I have faith in you and your abilities. Age has nothing to do with it!”

The navigator’s smile returned, his eyes glistening. “Thank you Doctor.”

McCoy nodded his head once. “I was just caught off guard by your calculations Ensign, it was rather… brilliant. You’re a smart kid for your age, keep it up and you’ll get far in life.”

“Thank you again sir.” Chekov said, feeling a sense of pride wash over him. “You’re not the first one to comment on my age, many people in Starfleet think I am too young to be aboard this ship. But it does not bother me, I am happy and I am good at my job.”

“I’m sure you are kid.” McCoy said softly, it was amazing how mature the young boy standing in front of him was, and the doctor felt so old and dull being next to the new generation’s genius Starfleet officer. “Well um…” McCoy began, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry again Ensign…”

Chekov chuckled then, a laugh that echoed down the hall like it was lighting up the place. “Doctor, you don’t have to apologise.”

McCoy grunted, hands resting on his hips. “Yeah well, I um…” the man just wanted to knock himself out for acting like a blabbering fool, instead of letting his mouth spill out words he went for a friendly gesture, sticking out his hand for a handshake. “Let’s just forget what an idiot I’ve been these past few minutes, I’ll see you around Ensign.”

The navigator’s lips turned up into a smile as he held the doctor’s hand. “Most definitely Sir.”

McCoy had a funny feeling that Chekov’s smiles were without a doubt contagious, because next thing he knew he was smiling right back at him. And the strange thing was that their hands were still clasped, rather tightly, and McCoy didn’t feel like letting go.

McCoy was transfixed by the way Chekov’s dark green eyes caught the light above them, the tiny dimple at the corner of his turned up lips, and the softness of his smaller hand grasped in his. The doctor had no idea why, but he was unexpectedly so much more engrossed by the young man standing in front of him.

Then the sound of an alarm filled the entire hallway. It echoed off the thick walls, the deafening noise pounding through their ears to make a point that danger was ahead for the ship. The red lights located by the main doors lit up like exploding light bulbs, filling the whitened corridors with a blinding flash of intense ruby.

Chekov’s hand slipped out of McCoys, his gaze on the door behind them where officers ran back and forth, minor panic written on their faces. Chekov then looked back at the doctor, biting his lip as if anxious.

“I have to go doctor!” Chekov let out. “I think the Romulans must have done something.”

“Better get in there quickly then, the bridge needs our finest navigator.” McCoy said with a smile. “Go.”

Chekov grinned brightly at McCoy, and without a second thought he’d turned on his heel and ran for the double doors. McCoy was left to stand in the hallway, watching the young man retreat back to the bridge, his yellow shirt disappearing through the doors that closed with a small hiss.

McCoy made his way back to the medical bay, hoping that no injuries would occur during the time that they had fighting with the other ship. As the doctor strolled through the long, never-ending corridors full of frantic officers; he started to wonder why his damn hand was still tingling after Chekov’s touch.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Enterprise isn't looking as clean as it was, but McCoy's just happy to know Chekov is safe.

McCoy had never felt anything like it in his life. The rush of adrenaline, the sudden rumbling beneath his feet, the ship collapsing around him, his breathing growing still as darkness stretched through the entire ship for a mere three seconds. It was like being stuck in a darkened building in the middle of an earthquake, nothing but shouting, roaring of machines and echoes of things falling to the floor to be heard.

McCoy had no idea what was going on around them, all he knew was that the Romulans were causing a whole lot of trouble, which probably wasn’t all that good. He picked up whispers of the Romulan vessel being destroyed, a black hole being made in the middle of the galaxy, and the Enterprise getting sucked right into it. Sounded like something McCoy really wasn’t in the mood for.

Judging by the powerful shakes the ship was receiving, plus the cracks in the walls and practically everything and everyone falling over around the spacecraft, the Enterprise had definitely almost disappeared through a dangerous never ending tunnel in space. Thankfully the shaking had stopped, the cracks had stopped spreading, and the ship had gone still.

McCoy had hauled himself to his feet after taking a hard fall to the medical bay’s floor, looking around frantically to see if there were any serious injuries. A few nurses and doctors here and there seemed fine, patients lay in their beds frightened, while a couple of people gained small cuts and bruises from falling.

The nurses and doctors rushed to the patients to check on them, like it wasn’t a question of what to do at that instant, their equipment out and ready to bandage those with minor injuries. So, without a second thought, after checking that everything was in place in the medical bay, McCoy ran through the doors to get to the bridge.

The doctor sprinted past darkened hallways, lights flickering on and off, parts of the ceiling lying on the ground. Crew members were walking through the halls, some in disbelief, some with small injuries heading to sickbay, and some attending to others who needed their help. 

Luckily the ship wasn’t in such bad condition as McCoy had thought as he ran through the corridors, some ceiling split in two, lights cut out, objects rolling across the floor or broken into bits after colliding with the hard ground. The doctor still didn’t let that thought change his idea of what the bridge might have ended up like.

His feet took him down the long, brightly lit corridor, bulbs flickering here and there as he passed, men fidgeting with the electric wiring jumbled up in the box on the wall. Things seemed almost normal here, like the whole crew were practicing a fire drill, or a minor accident had occurred aboard the ship. 

But McCoy took no notice to the engineer officers around him; instead he got to the double doors leading onto the bridge, and almost banged on them in frustration with his hands as they opened a little less slowly than usual. 

McCoy was greeted with a calmer atmosphere than he had imagined. The bridge wasn’t exactly intact. The lights above the computers flickered uncontrollably, wires were sticking out through a crack near the door, and the ceiling had split in many places along the roof of the room. 

And the worst part, and what made McCoy’s stomach turn, was the enormous pattern of splitting glass along the front window, looking like it was about ready to smash into a thousand pieces. McCoy stared at it in disbelief, feeling like the people on the bridge had just about cheated death itself.

“Bones!”

McCoy jumped on the spot as Kirk’s voice boomed across the quietened room, only hushed murmuring between the crew. Next thing he felt was a hand to the shoulder, Kirk’s one and only greeting to the doctor, he winced at the hard slap.

“You’re alive.” McCoy joked, blinded by the Captain’s bright smile. “Good to know.”

Kirk laughed wholeheartedly, folding his arms across his chest with a sigh. “Sure am, and I couldn’t have done it without my awesome crew.”

“I know,” McCoy said, eyebrows raised. “You’d get to cocky if you had to do it on your own and get us all killed.”

Kirk let out a ring of laughter that got half of the crews attention before they were diverted to other things, the Captain’s laughter shrunk into silent chuckles as he gave McCoy another hit on the arm, not impressing him one bit. 

He didn’t know how Kirk could be so calm and laughing of all things after such an incident, he just didn’t understand the man; he could get into the worst of trouble and yet walk out of it with the biggest, goofiest smile spread across his smug face. It made McCoy want to roll his eyes, and wonder how the hell he’d become friends with such a madman.

“How’s Pike?” Kirk suddenly asked, his arms crossing over his chest, looking like the serious Captain that McCoy had never encountered before. “Anyone injured?”

“No,” McCoy answered instantly, reassuring the new Captain. “Pike’s fine, his legs are weak, we’re doing some tests to see if anything’s sprained or broken.”

“Good!” That daft grin was back again. “The balance is restored to nature… whatever that means.”

And with that said, the Captain turned on his heels and walked with a jump in his step towards Sulu who was sitting back in his chair, looking more than relieved. 

“What are you all looking so glum for?!” Kirk’s annoyingly loud voice suddenly exploded across the room. “We almost got pulled into a bloody black hole! Why is no one celebrating?”

McCoy had to hold in his laughter as Kirk yanked Sulu out of his chair, the helmsman practically yelped in surprise at the action, and the Captain’s hands held the pilots and started dancing to nonexistent music, except for the very out of tune singing coming from Kirk. 

The helmsman had no objection; in fact he had joined in, dancing with the Captain in the middle of the bridge, their singing and cheering starting to affect the others around them as they too joined in. McCoy felt like he’d suddenly been swept into one of those teenage parties where karaoke was vital to the night’s entertainment.

Over the noise of the cheering and whistling McCoy couldn’t even hear himself think. But he felt relaxed and at ease watching his best friend dance like an idiot with Sulu, all smiles and bad singing, like the Romulan ship hadn’t even existed and had almost made them all disappear.

“You must be enjoying yourself.”

McCoy blinked once or twice, before his eyes averted to the young boy that was unpredictably standing beside him. Chekov was smiling up at him, his bright green eyes filled with as much delight as the room held, those slight dimples at the corner of his lips that McCoy had always noticed, but never wanted to admit that he had.

“Why do you say that?” McCoy’s brow rose to his hairline, arms going behind his back. 

“Because you were smiling,” Chekov chuckled lightly, his hand moved across to pick at the sleeve on his other arm as his eyes looked away from the doctor, diverting to the patch of red floor. “I like it when you smile.”

McCoy was about to reply with one of his jibes in his infamous grouchy way, but it took him just a few seconds to realise exactly what had past Chekov’s lips. The doctor gazed at the young navigator in surprise, noticing the faint blush that crept along Chekov’s cheeks.

“Uh…” McCoy let out, coughing slightly to hide his quite obvious surprise in his voice. “That’s uh… very nice of you… Ensign.”

Chekov took a quick glance at the doctor and smiled sweetly, his cheeks tinted rosy red. And all McCoy wanted to do was slap himself silly, that’s very nice of you Ensign? McCoy wanted to laugh at his own ridiculous words, sounding like a god damn idiot.

Jim would laugh like a madman at him, and then proceed to give him advice on how to react to a compliment, and give some tips on how to have a bloody good conversation. Because frankly McCoy had a thing for sounding like a complete fool in front of Chekov.

“How are the rest of the crew?” Chekov said biting his bottom lip, big green eyes looking into the doctors. “Is anyone hurt?”

McCoy was so focused on his own thoughts that it took him some time to realise the navigator’s lips were moving, and he was gazing up at him like some lost child with big innocent eyes. And no, McCoy was definitely not thinking that Chekov looked adorable.

“Er… no.” He answered, barely catching the question in the first place on the account that he was staring at one spot on Chekov’s face where a small dimple curved around his lips. “No, everyone was fine, a few bumps and bruises from the contact, but no one was hurt badly.”

“Good.” Chekov smiled sincerely, from his own experience on the bridge; he was surprised no other part of the ship was ripped apart from the powerful force of the black hole. 

McCoy would have said by the walls almost crumbling around the place, lights flickering in almost every room and just about every alarm bell sounding, the whole ship had just slipped past getting into a whole lot of trouble. And judging by the gigantic window of the bridge that was now split from all angles it was the crew in that very room that managed to barely beat death itself.

“That window looks about ready to break.” McCoy mumbled, secretly feeling slightly anxious that space would finally have its way with him once the glass breaks. 

Chekov followed the doctor’s gaze all the way over to the glass window at the front of the ship, where minutes ago he had seen the endless pit of darkness, reeling in a massive spaceship like it was child’s play. He wasn’t scared at the time, no, he was petrified. Chekov felt lucky to get out of such a situation.

“Yes,” Chekov said, looking back at the doctor, but with a smile still on his lips. “But it will not break, everything will be fine. Everyone is ok, and that’s all that matters.”

“Yeah.” McCoy nodded, his lips twitching at the edges, the navigator’s smiles really were contagious. “And uh…” McCoy paused.

He really wanted to say just what he was feeling at that moment, what he had felt while the ship rattled against the draw of the black hole, as he walked through the damaged hallways to the bridge. Chekov had been on his mind the whole time.

The young navigator was admittedly the first person McCoy really wanted to see before anyone, hell, he didn’t know Chekov as much as he knew Kirk, even Spock, and maybe even Uhura who he’d met a few times before at Starfleet. Yet, it was Chekov who he was frightened for, it was the Ensign that he was praying to whatever God that was out there would be safe on the bridge against such a violent alien race.

Strangely McCoy had taken a liking to the kid. He’d never experienced such need to see someone in his entire life before, want to talk to someone all the time, see their smile or hear their voice. Hell, McCoy had never even felt like that with his own ex-wife, not even close. 

“I’m glad you’re ok.” The doctor said, more confidently than he’d imagined as he placed a gentle hand on the young ensign’s shoulder, a smile just visible at the corner of his lips. 

Chekov didn’t even flinch or back away at the touch, which made McCoy relax from his nervous stance that he’d taken up. He thought the sudden movement would be uncomfortable for the navigator, but all McCoy got back was a genuinely beautiful smile.

“You too Doctor McCoy.” Chekov said in barely a whisper. 

The young Ensign could feel the heat from McCoy’s hand radiating through him, it warmed him to the pit of his stomach, a feeling he felt at ease with for once in his life. Chekov had never wanted to be so close to someone until he did at that moment.

And before he could stop himself, Chekov did something that he hoped McCoy wouldn’t shout at him for like he did at certain cadets. The Russian took scarcely two steps forward and enveloped McCoy in a hug. He wound his arms around the doctor’s waist, slowly resting his hands on his back.

Chekov’s head shifted to the side, he told himself not to even think about it as he lay his head gently on the other man’s shoulder, biting his bottom lip nervously Chekov shut his eyes and waited. He didn’t know what he was waiting for, but something in his mind told him McCoy was about to push him away and ask him what the hell he was doing!

But it never came. Instead, Chekov unpredictably felt strong arms wrap around him with care as though he was a doll about to break. Chekov’s outstandingly green eyes opened wide as McCoy held him back, his warm breath tickling the back of Chekov’s neck like the soft touch of a feather brushing against his skin.

McCoy hugged him tightly, the younger man fitting against him securely and comfortably. The doctor knew if Kirk took a peek at them right now he’d never hear the end of it. But he didn’t care, not when Chekov rested his head on his shoulder like that, like he was feeling safe and at ease. And McCoy was the one giving him that protection.

To the doctor, it felt grand. He hadn’t held anyone this close in years, too afraid to get near any person he comes in contact with, just in case they betray him or throw him away like a piece of garbage. He hadn’t even let Jim get too close to him, half of the things he tucked away at the back of his mind for no one to find out about. 

McCoy could virtually sense the smile that was sneakily tugging at the corner of his lips. The doctor wanted to mentally clout himself for turning so mushy just because of a seventeen year old kid, one who he’d only met a few weeks ago. But then again, another part of him was patting himself on the back for going five minutes without wanting to clonk someone’s head against the wall for talking nonsense, or getting on his nerves. Which was mostly Jim.

And in the midst of his thoughts he didn’t notice Chekov pulling away from the hug, too caught up in the moment as they say. 

“Doctor?” Chekov’s eyes met his, a worried expression on his young face. “Are you okay?”

“Huh?” McCoy coughed into his hand, standing straight with his arms moving behind his back like he was in the military. “Yes, Ensign, I’m fine.”

“Oh,” Chekov smiled sweetly. “It’s just that you looked a little dazed.”

McCoy nodded slowly, thinking if he told Chekov exactly what he was in deep reflection about then the kid would look at him stupid, and laugh in his face before taking his seat at the navigation controls. 

“I will go then, Sir.” Chekov almost gave the man a heart attack as he cut through his thoughts. “I believe we must get this ship back home before the windows break.”

McCoy’s ears pricked up at the boy’s last words, the words ‘window’ and ‘break’ in the same sentence made the doctor’s stomach do flips, in a very bad way of course. But before he could ask Chekov if he actually meant that they had a ninety percent chance of being sucked into space, he looked at him and changed his mind.

Chekov wore a cheeky grin on his face, one that said ‘you so fell for that you idiot’, and before McCoy could stop himself he let out a laugh, something that never came too easy for him since his childhood. With Chekov laughing with him, it felt like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

“Thanks for the minor heart attack Ensign.” McCoy grinned, ruffling the Russian’s curly locks gently under the palm of his hand. “You got me.”

Chekov chuckled lightly. “I’m sorry; I have a habit of making silly jokes.”

McCoy smiled at that, hoping to hear some more one day soon if the kid made him feel this cheerful. “Try to tone them down Ensign, I’m an old man.”

Chekov smiled widely, a glint in his eyes. “You are not old, you are not that much older than me Sir.”

If only he knew, McCoy thought to himself, trying hard not to mentally count the age gap between him and the young navigator standing in front of him. “Yeah, right.” McCoy mumbled, gritting his teeth as he worked out the answer, the kid was young enough to be his son perhaps.

“Anyway Sir,” Chekov said looking around the room, eyes following the crew members who were spread about the place, still celebrating their success with loud chatter before preparing to launch the Enterprise back to Earth. “I’d better get back to my position.”

McCoy nodded at the young man, a big part of him wanting to talk on and on with him, because Chekov had suddenly become someone he could talk to, someone he could have a conversation with that didn’t consist of bar fights, Spock being an asshole, or screwing the next person who came through the door. 

And most of all, the Russian made him laugh. The one thing McCoy had been immune to for so long, like it was a disease of some kind that could kill him if he let out the slightest bit of laughter. Yet, he’d just laughed with Chekov; it flew out without being aware until he was actually doing it. 

“Sir?” 

McCoy gazed down at Chekov whose bright green eyes were again looking into his, so young yet so wise. “Sorry.” McCoy apologised. “Was in a world of my own. Yeah, you go, I’ll uh… I’ll see you soon?”

Chekov smiled brightly. “Of course Sir.”

Chekov turned away and slowly began to move, but before he could take a few small steps McCoy called quietly, only for the hearing of the navigator. “Chekov.”

The ensign spun around on the spot, wide eyes looking up at the doctor in wonder. “Yes Sir?”

McCoy took at least a minute to get his words gathered together, wondering if he was about to sound like a complete idiot. “You… uh…” McCoy crossed his arms over his chest, a move he made when feeling slightly nervy. “You can… call me Len.”

And there it was, the silence that McCoy knew was coming. Chekov looked at him with big green eyes, confusion clearly written across his face, and McCoy just wanted to slap himself silly for sounding like a complete and utter moron. Or so he thought.

Next thing McCoy knew the Ensign’s expression changed, a smile formed, the young man’s innocence showing with that one look. “Ok.” Chekov said softly. “Only if you call me Pavel.”

McCoy couldn’t help himself from smiling back at that. “Sounds good to me.”

If McCoy was right, he could have sworn he saw a blush creep its way up the ensign’s cheeks. “See you later, Len.” Chekov smiled sweetly.

“You too, Pavel.” McCoy let the name slip of the end of his tongue, the name sounding more beautiful than he’d imagined. 

With that said, Chekov twirled around on his feet and walked cheerfully back to his seat, fingers already dancing along the many buttons that made no sense to McCoy. The young Russian looked so content sitting at his station, eyes twinkling as he watched the stars shooting past the ship in the galaxies depths. 

McCoy sighed inaudibly, running a hand through his tousled hair. He didn’t want to admit it but it wasn’t like it was a small thing to admit, he had a fascination for the kid, one where he just couldn’t get the boy out of his mind. And it scared him quite frankly. 

All McCoy could do was watch from afar as the navigator worked his magic on the con, admire his abilities, his knowledge, and that sweet smile of his that was highly contagious to anyone around him. It didn’t seem right to him to become so absorbed by Chekov’s cheeky grins, angelic laugh and warm hugs that McCoy wanted more of.

McCoy wanted to walk away, pretend that he’d never met the ensign in the first place, and knock Jim across the head for even ordering him to go look for Chekov. It wasn’t healthy, how much he wanted to see Chekov all the time, thinking about him more times than he thought about his family or even the next medical check on the list. 

There were only two explanations for it. Either he was getting really lonely and seriously needed to get out more, or the other really crazy idea that McCoy couldn’t believe he was even thinking himself, he was starting to see Chekov in a whole new light. A light that showed just how sweet and lovable the ensign really was. 

McCoy knew he was treading in deep waters, becoming close to a seventeen year old ensign that he’d not long ago met, giving him feelings that he shouldn’t be experiencing with such a young man. But then again, McCoy was someone who didn’t give a damn when it came to people’s opinions, or those so called rules about not being able to get too close to your fellow colleague, so it shouldn’t be a problem, right?

McCoy inhaled deeply and let out the longest sigh he could gather up. He really needed to stop thinking just for a few minutes, forget about the young Russian for a little while, and go make sure that his poor medical bay hadn’t been too damaged in the mad dash to stop the Enterprise from getting yanked into a great big hole in space. 

With that in mind, McCoy took one last look around the bridge. Calmness had seemed to settle around him, the crew were back in position at their cons, some still talking in hushed voices in small groups, and others walking to and fro across the room to collect supplies and patch up what needed fixing. 

His eyes came across the newly appointed Captain by the infamous chair, his smile bright and cheerful as he shared a few words with Lieutenant Sulu, his hand resting on his shoulder as if they’d been good mates for years. McCoy’s brow raised in suspicion as Kirk’s hand lowered slowly down Sulu’s arm, a gesture that McCoy knew Kirk loved to use to so call ‘seduce’ the men and women he came across.

What stunned the doctor the most was what the Captain did next. His arms encircled the Lieutenant’s waist, pulling the younger man into his arms, which in McCoy’s books didn’t look exactly friendly but a little too friendly. And with Kirk practically manhandling the helmsman, Sulu hugged him back just as eagerly, arms locking around his neck tightly as if Kirk had almost dropped off the side of a cliff.

It seemed McCoy wasn’t the only one to notice the Captain’s obvious fondness for his pilot. By now the whole bridge had either gone quite, or was starting to whisper like a bunch of teenage school boys and girls, gossip floating from one group to the next. All eyes were on the couple who didn’t seem to give a damn what they were doing, and where they were doing it.

McCoy had to hold in a laugh, trust Kirk to fondle his helmsman in the middle of the bridge in front of his crew. He rolled his eyes at the thought of Kirk smirking at the looks on people’s faces, half staring in surprise, and the other half giggling like the two were doing a lot more than hugging.

So McCoy decided to leave Kirk to his strange ideas, and let him have his own fun, or whatever he wanted to call it. The doctor took one last look at Chekov, who didn’t seem too fazed by the fact that his best friend was cuddling with the Captain in front of everyone, pretty much smiling to himself as if he knew something no one else did.

McCoy smiled to himself, thinking of the things swimming around in the ensign’s mind, probably a secret that he had hiding up in there for a while. The doctor guessed what that secret could be, judging by his best friend’s hand sliding a little too close to Lieutenant Sulu’s backside. He kept a mental note to talk to Kirk about that.

With that in mind McCoy turned towards the sliding doors, leaving the bridge crew to it. He was met by dim lights, and a busy corridor where engineers scuttled about fixing broken lights and split wires. McCoy zigzagged his way around the corridor, ready to face what was left for him in sick bay, hoping that sooner than later he’d be able to see Pavel again. 

-M-c-C-h-e-k-o-v-

It was a mad dash for most people to get to the auditorium at Starfleet, just days after the Romulan incident with the Enterprise. Just a few minutes and the hall would be packed with cadets, watching as James T. Kirk officially became the new Captain of the U.S.S Enterprise, and leader of over four hundred crew members.

Everyone had been stunned with the young man’s control and confidence in the Captain’s chair, barking out orders without a second thought, saving the lives of so many in such a minute space of time. And in those short minutes, James T. Kirk had become a great Captain before he’d even put on his uniform.

McCoy didn’t want to say it to Kirk’s face, but he was damn proud of the guy, no matter how much of a perverted idiot he could sometimes be, particularly after too many pints. He could imagine the smug look etched on Kirk’s face for the next year or two. But then again, Kirk deserved this chance of becoming a Captain of his own spaceship, ready to take on whatever challenges that lay ahead.

And McCoy, poor man would be stuck with him, nagging the doctor to pull up a seat and drink some shit he’s never heard of in his life. McCoy rolled his eyes comically at the thought, because he knew that sooner than later it would happen. Maybe Chekov being aboard the ship would be good for his sanity, and probably his health.

“Doctor!”

McCoy stopped in his tracks, the entrance to the main hall just yards away. When his name was called for a second time he turned around to look down the long hallway, he was met with the sight of Pavel Chekov clad in his cadet uniform that suited him much more than McCoy could have imagined.

“How many times do I have to repeat myself?” McCoy smiled at the beaming ensign. “It’s Len.”

Chekov came to a halt next to the doctor. “I know!” he chuckled cutely. “I just thought I’d be professional in public.”

McCoy laughed wholeheartedly, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re doing a better job than me then.”

Chekov grinned, giving a slight shrug before changing the subject. “You are going to the auditorium yes?”

McCoy sighed almost dramatically. “I have no choice but to watch Jim grin smugly at his audience, yeah.” He answered jokingly. 

Chekov laughed softly at the doctor’s vacant expression, his hands clapped behind his back and his head bowed. McCoy smiled warmly at the ensign at his sudden change of disposition. He noticed the sudden faint blush spreading slowly across the navigator’s cheeks, and the quiet shuffling of his feet against the marble floor, that action had seemed to become a habit of his.

“Everything alright Pavel?” McCoy asked with knotted eyebrows, stepping just an inch closer to inspect the smaller man’s face, which by now was as red as a tomato.

“Yes,” Chekov bit down on the corner of his lip, looking up at McCoy shyly. “Since you are by yourself Sir... I mean Len,” he stuttered. “Would you… would you like to sit by me?”

McCoy stared at Chekov, his eyebrows reaching his hairline. The ensign looked so bashful and unsure that McCoy just wanted to hug the young man, instead he decided not to catch too much attention in the middle of Starfleet’s main hallway, and he didn’t want to look like a mushy old man when he was far from it. 

McCoy extended his arm to softly touch the ensign’s shoulder. “Course I’ll sit with you.” He squeezed Chekov’s shoulder gently, and gave him a genuine smile.

Chekov’s smile could have lit up the darkest night at that moment; he was over the moon with McCoy’s reply, feeling more eager for the ceremony than he was five minutes before. “Ok!” he said happily, body relaxing from its tense posture.

“Let’s get going then,” McCoy slipped his hand below Chekov’s shoulder, resting it gently on his back. “Maybe afterwards we can all go out to celebrate.”

“I would love that!” Chekov grinned vibrantly, the feel of McCoy’s hand pressed lightly against his lower back comforting him. 

“Good,” McCoy nodded, starting to take small strides towards the main door to the auditorium. “First, let’s go watch Jim’s boring speech.”

Chekov’s laughter echoed down the hall as they walked leisurely next to each other, McCoy’s hand still resting softly on the young Russian’s back, neither noticing that curiosity got the best of some cadets around them. Clearly, McCoy couldn’t give a damn.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thus, the journey to space begins.

The time had come again. It was time to brave it, to face a fear, to step aboard a shuttle that was probably made out of metal as thin as a tin of tuna. Those stupid windows that could crack at the mere pressure of gravity, and those damn metal beams that had people ducking and dodging every time they turned around.

Leonard McCoy hated space. No, not space itself, but the things in space and the mechanical machines and flying objects that sat out there in all their glory. Not to mention the bad ass comets that seem to want to scare the living daylights out of people every chance they get, and the strange, unknown planets that always seem to involve bad tempered aliens or creatures the size of London Bridge. 

So, McCoy didn’t really have a lot to hate about space, just those few things, and the fact that any moment you’re out there something could happen in a split second, your body could be sucked out into the darkness and tortured while gravity decides to laugh in your face. That was probably his main concern. 

And he wasn’t travelling with the best of people either. Oh no, he had to be put into a small sized shuttle with Jim Kirk. So much for being the Captain who should be sitting at the front showing off, as usual, doing captaincy things, instead of sitting next to the medical officer who he’d be bragging to and annoying the whole way from the academy to the Enterprise. 

As he climbed aboard the said shuttle, he really wished he’d brought a pair of earmuffs with him, or at least a long piece of cloth to wrap tightly around Kirk’s big mouth to shut him up. 

“I mean did you see it, Bones? Epic!”

“Yes, I saw it Jim.”

“Seriously though, I was crapping my pants the whole time!”

“I bet you were.”

“Those Romulans got a taste of their own medicine, the bastards!”

“Mhm.”

And it went on. Even as they stepped through the moving doors into the vessel, where every crew member congratulated their new Captain and couldn’t contain their shouts and clapping, Kirk went on about how they were near to death, between shaking hands and giving his audience a beaming smile. McCoy rolled his eyes; he’d tuned out minutes ago. 

As they scuttled through the craft, dodging passengers who clearly couldn’t stop kiss-assing, Kirk turned to McCoy who was close enough to jabbing the lot of them with hyposprays. He was speaking to him directly, McCoy could tell by the eye contact, and he was gutted that he actually had to listen.

“…and I did look pretty damn good in that chair.” Kirk grinned, that cheeky grin that could make McCoy puke. 

McCoy snorted loud enough to make Kirk glare in his direction. “You wish, Captain I’m so Cocky.”

Kirk laughed loudly, slapping a hand to the doctor’s shoulder. “Wow Bones, you made a joke!”

“Good observation.” McCoy rolled his eyes, swatting Kirk’s hand away. “Aren’t you supposed to be sitting up front anyway?”

Kirk grunted rather unattractively as he balanced himself against a seat. “I’m not starting my Captain duties until my foot touches the Enterprise.” He smirked suddenly. “And besides, I don’t want my helmsman getting lonely.”

Kirk smiled so self-satisfied that you could have sworn he’d just had the best night of his life, which he kind of did half the time he spent at the academy. Before McCoy could even question what Kirk was going on about, the Captain had waved a hand at him and fell into the nearest seat.

McCoy’s brow lifted in curiosity at the mop of black hair that peeked from the top of the chair that was next to Kirk’s seat, and his curiosity turned to realisation as Kirk not so subtly put an arm around him, with him turning out to be Hikaru Sulu as the helmsman turned his head to smile at their new Captain. In one swift movement Kirk’s lips were on Sulu’s, kissing him like he hadn’t been feeling him up hours ago at the ceremony. 

McCoy grunted to himself, with a roll of his eyes. “Trust James T. Kirk to be sleeping with the pilot.”

With that disturbing thought in mind, McCoy turned from the sight of the Captain being all giggly and romantic, that was such a rare sight, to find a seat of his own. Before the doctor could go anywhere his eyes landed on the seat behind the helmsman, which was occupied by Pavel, the one person McCoy had been hoping to see. 

The navigator was leaning on his side, head resting against the cold steel of the shuttle’s walls, eyes shut as he napped soundlessly amongst all the commotion. McCoy didn’t know whether he should just sit down next to the kid, or wake him up to ask, or just sit somewhere else to give Pavel his privacy.

Then again, Pavel never complained about McCoy’s company before, so the doctor was sure he wouldn’t mind too much if he sat beside him for the journey. Therefore McCoy took the chance and sat down very quietly next to the Russian, cursing at the seats for being so bendable and shaking slightly as his weight hit them. 

With that small movement Pavel’s eyes fluttered, and his bright eyes gazed forward in confusion. “Hope you don’t mind me sitting here.” McCoy murmured. 

Pavel would have being scared out of his wits if McCoy had been any louder, but instead his eyes widened in surprise at the sudden voice beside him. Pavel soon comprehended who the man sitting next to him was, and his dozy expression soon turned into a look of pure delight. 

“Len!” Pavel grinned. “I would love for you to sit by me.”

McCoy caught that grin, and found himself smiling just as cheerfully. “That’s alright then. Because I don’t think Jim would appreciate my company when he can have Sulus.”

Pavel laughed quietly, tilting to his left to whisper to the doctor, for the two in front not to hear. “Captain Kirk asked Hikaru to save him a seat, because he wanted to get to know him better.”

McCoy could only chuckle and roll his eyes in amusement at Kirk’s attempts. “He must have a thing for guys that could possibly kick his ass.”

Pavel and McCoy laughed simultaneously, imagining the victory of Sulu beating Kirk hands down in any match possible with his skills of kung fu and kick butt. 

‘This is Lieutenant Holmes, we are ready for takeoff. Could every crew member please take their seats and fasten their seatbelts. We will be arriving at the U.S.S Enterprise in approximately 47 minutes. Thank you.’

Without another warning the shuttle hummed into life, taking no time in loosening itself and jerking forward. McCoy’s heart almost jumped out of his chest, the sensation of the shuttle’s quick movement’s making his insides turn to jelly. God, he hated this part.

He didn’t know what else to do but to look directly at a spot on the floor, as he did every time, and take deep breaths as if his life depended on it. All laughter and stupid jokes forgotten as the shuttle jutted forward, and began rising off the solid ground where McCoy knew was the safest place to be, not space where gravity messes with you and sucks your insides out like a hover. 

“Len?” Pavel’s soft voice reached him, the use of the doctor’s first name caught his attention and he smiled.

The doctor looked at Pavel with a reassuring smile. “I’m fine, just uh… tired.”

At that moment the shuttle decided to topple to the left, as it swiftly rose into the sky faster than McCoy would like it to. This part took way too long, and it wasn’t going down too well for the doctor whose insides were turning. 

“I don’t think you’re tired.” Pavel chuckled lightly. “Are you afraid?”

McCoy sighed heavily, thinking that if he could admit he was a total coward to anyone it would be someone he knew wouldn’t joke about it for months to come, unlike someone he knew. “Yeah, I don’t like space, I don’t like black holes, I don’t like comets, and I definitely don’t like tiny spaceships that could easily fall apart.”

Pavel only smiled kindly at the doctor, understanding what it was like to be afraid. “Don’t worry Leonard, it will be ok.”

The next thing McCoy knew was that Pavel’s hand was on his, grasping it gently as if soothing him with that one touch. McCoy looked down, Pavel’s thumb was tracing circles over his knuckles, a soft touch that he thought he would never be able to feel. But here he was, with this kid that was half his age, caring for him like he meant something to him.

And that’s when all thoughts about flying in a shuttle, in the dark blankets of space, flew from his mind and was replaced by the feeling of Pavel’s hand on his, showing him that there was nothing to fear. He had absolutely nothing to be afraid of, because he had Pavel Chekov.

McCoy decided then to test something, he turned his hand over so that their hands were palm against palm, and entwines their fingers together securely. As Pavel looked across at him with his beautiful green eyes staring questioningly, McCoy just smiled, at the wonderment in those eyes and the fact that he wanted to stare into them more often than he could have ever imagined.

Pavel’s lips turned up into a sweet smile, his grip tightening in their clasped hands, an answer that McCoy was hoping for and one that told him that Pavel Chekov would be the one who changed him forever.


End file.
